The Truth of Fairytales
by Neverland14
Summary: War leaves physical scars but it's greatest weapon is the ones we cannot see. When Molly Hooper finds herself employed to take care of the wounded solider, Sherlock Holmes, she soon finds that she has no idea what she has gotten herself into. He is physically hurt and mentally superior. But over time Molly realizes that there is more to this moody man-child than she first thought.
1. Chapter 1

"Mattie, I'm going to be just fine." Molly said, patting the older woman's hand. "I'm sure you will be but ever since your parents died I've had to watch out for you. I can't help but feel worried." The woman fretted as she tucked a nonexistent piece of Molly's hair behind her ear. "I'll be fine. I'm just going to the war office to sign up become a nurse, not to fight the war." Molly smiled. "I've heard stories of bombs being dropped on hospitals before, Molly." Mattie replied very serious. "I'm going to be fine." Molly took guardian's hands and gave them a squeeze. "And who knows, I may even find a husband while I'm taking care of soldiers." she teased. "Where ya going Molls?" a little boy asked as he came outside. His blonde hair was sticking up on one side and he had a blanket clasped in his small hands. "I'm going to become a nurse Tommy" Molly picked the boy up, smiling as he giggled. "What do you think about that?" "Are you gonna save lives?" Tommy asked, rubbing his blanket against his face. "Yes, I will." She giggled as she spun around and set Tommy down. "Just promise me you'll come back, Molly" Mattie said, trying to user Tommy inside. "I promise." Molly kissed Mattie's forehead before turning to Tommy and giving him a kiss. "You be good" She said before grabbing her bicycle and starting down the dirt road towards town. "They would be proud of you." Mattie called to Molly "Especially your father" Molly gave a small smile at the memory of her father and turned around to wave a quick goodbye. She had one last glimpse of the faded letters of the sign, "Mattie's Home for Children", before she was around the bend.

"What on earth have you done, Sherlock?!" Mycroft Holmes yelled, motioning to the disorder of the sitting room. Papers were scattered everywhere. Some had odd green slime on them, some seemed to have been burnt, and a couple may or may not have been on fire still. "I was doing an experiment" rose the reply from the chair in the corner. Sherlock was still in his pajamas and a dressing night shirt even though it was well past noon. His head was resting on the floor and his legs were draped over the back of the chair. His face was turning red, an effect of all the blood rushing to his head. Mycroft sighed. "Sit up this instant. You're acting like a child." "According to some members of this family, I am still a child" Sherlock snapped, straightening himself so that he was laying on the chair, his arms and legs draped over it. "Are we going to have this argument again, Sherlock?" Mycroft sighed. "Mummy already said she doesn't want you to go fight. She wants you here and safe." "You know better than anyone that we need men out there." Sherlock replied, not looking at Mycroft. "How many have died so far?" "I don't deal with the numbers, Sherlock." "Of course you don't. You're all too damn scared that we are losing to the Germans." Sherlock snapped, shifting away from Mycroft. Mycroft sighed. "Mummy is afraid that you will die." "Of course she is. She's my mother." Sherlock huffed. "It's a war. People are going to die. I can't tell anyone that I won't because even I don't know the odds. But I do know that I have to help." "What is this new surge of patriotism coming from?" "It's not patriotism. I know that I can be helpful to the army. I have an above average intelligence. I would flourish in battle and at creating strategies, even you have to admit that. Now, can I sign up or not?" "Well-" "Good, I already have. I leave in a week for France. Nice talking with you, now leave." Sherlock stood up and began to push Mycroft out of the door. "Wait! Does Mummy and Father know?!" Mycroft yelled, rounding on Sherlock. "Do you think I'm dense? Of course they don't." Sherlock scoffed. "What were you thinking?! Do you know how heartbroken Mummy will be?!" "She'll get over it. "Sherlock waved his hand dismissing Mycroft. "Father is too drunk to even notice that I'm gone. He'll be too busy sleeping off of his hangover." He walked out the doors and began to go up the stairs. "Sherlock" Mycroft called after him "just…be careful out there. This isn't some silly puzzle that you can solve." Sherlock turned and nodded. "I will be" he promised before running up the stairs.

A week and a lot of packing later, Molly Hooper was on her way to the hospital. She had said her goodbye to all the other children and had gotten her official nurse's uniform. Having packed her few meager things and set off, she felt excited and nervous for this new adventure. Sherlock was in the first class section of the train, as bored as ever. His mother had seen him off with many tears. Even Mycroft looked sad. But he couldn't dwell on those things now; he was going off to war. He calming folded his hands under his chin and went into his mind palace for the remained of the trip. Going off to war is a funny thing. People leave feeling hopeful and scared and nervous all at the same time. But after a while, you become numb. You shut down because it's easier than dealing with all the death. It's a rude awakening when you come back to your life as it was before and you have to remember how to feel again. You go in thinking you can save the world, but war leaves no one unscathed.


	2. Chapter 2

"How many?" Molly asked, coming to stand beside another nurse.

"Twelve. A bomb went off and men got caught in the blast. Most were far enough away, but there was one that was close. He's already been placed in a special room." Molly nodded and began to make her way to one of the men that was sitting on a cot.

"Shards in the leg?" She asked, inspecting his bloody leg. He gave her a nod and she began to roll up his pants so that she could get to his calf.

"Hooper!" Molly turned over her shoulder to see one of the older doctors jogging towards her.

"Yes Dr. Erikson?" Molly's brows knitted and she slowly turned back to the solider sitting in front of her.

"I need you to see to someone else. I can have another nurse take care of this one" he gestured to the solider sitting on the cot.

"But I can't just le-"

"Hooper. I'll make sure" He absent mindedly pointed at the solider "…what's your name?"

"George" the solider answered.

"Well Melanie can take care of George. I need you" he pointed to Molly "to take care of Sherlock Holmes. He was the one closest to the blast."

"Ok" Molly nodded and followed Dr. Erikson away. Molly had to stifle a laugh when she heard George give a flirty "Hello" to Melanie who giggled in response.

"Soldiers will do anything to get a little something extra" Dr. Erikson smiled, shaking his head.

He led Molly down a hallway and opened a door. The room had a small window with the curtains closed, leaving very little light shining on the man lying on the cot.

"He has gashes up the left side of his body from the blast and the debris" Dr. Erikson explained to Molly as he stepped into the room. "He has bruising on his right side. After the blast happened he was propelled by the shock of it and landed hard on his right side. He has a small cut on his cheek and a large bump on his head. He's unconscious right now, but his he'll wake up eventually. When he does, you can dress the wounds and get something cold for his head. If he becomes too much, just come get one of the other doctors and we'll come help you." Dr. Erikson concluded before he began to walk out of the room.

"Why am I doing this sir? I'm just a nurse." Molly asked.

Dr. Erikson smiled. "We both know you are qualified enough to be a doctor. I have surgeries to perform. I don't have enough free time to try and take care of a man who isn't dying. Besides, I thought you would be the best for this job."

"Thank you sir. I'll try not to let you down."

"You won't." Dr. Erikson said before leaving Molly alone with the injured man. Molly stood there awkwardly, playing with her dress. She looked around the room, trying to find something to do. In the corner she found a small stool that she placed at the foot of the cot and waited for the man to wake up.

Molly was jolted awake by panicked cries. "What's going on?! Where am I?! What happened?!" The patient, 'Sherlock Holmes', Molly reminded herself was trying to get off of the cot with little success. Every time he moved, he would hiss in pain and seemed to find a new injury. He began to waver and seemed as if he was going to faint. Molly ran over and began pushing him back onto the cot. "There was an explosion and-"

"Who are you? What are you doing?" He asked trying to keep himself upright. When Molly put her hand on his chest and tried to push him back down he grimaced in pain. "I'm sorry" Molly said quietly and backed away from the cot. This left Sherlock reclining slightly with one leg on the cot and one leg off. He sat there in silence before whispering "I can't remember my name."

"You might have shot term memory loss. You did hit your head pretty hard." Molly gave a reassuring smile while her eyes drifted to a large bruise on his head "Your name is Sherlock Holmes and my name is Molly Hooper. Now, I'm going to get some anesthetic and look at your injuries, okay?"

"My mind is all I have; without it I have nothing." Sherlock's breathing picked up and so did his heart rate. He lifted his hand to find that it was shaking and turned in panic to Molly. Molly took his hand in hers. "You're going to be okay. Your memory will come back soon, you just need to give it a little time. I promise, you are going to be just fine." Sherlock felt himself calm down and nodded. Molly slowly let go of his hand to make sure he was still ok. She gave his a reassuring nod and quickly left the room to get some supplies for his injuries. She came back with rolls of bandages, a rag, and a bowl of warm water.

"I'm going to roll up your pants leg and I'm going to clean the large wound. I'm only going to look at the large cuts. The smaller once we can deal with later on." After his pants were up to his knee she dunked the rag in the water and began to wipe the blood off. Sherlock hissed in pain and gripped the side of the bed. "Sorry" she whispered before continuing.

"Do you mind if I take a look at your chest?" Molly asked as she finished wrapping Sherlock's leg.

"That's rather forward don't you think, Ms. Hooper?" He smirked. She looked at the ground, feeling her face reddening.

"You know what I meant." She replied quietly. Sherlock smiled and began to attempt to take his shirt off.

"Let me do that." Molly said as she watched Sherlock grimace. She nimbly unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his arms trying to cause his the least amount of pain. "Sorry"

"You seem to have a habit of apologizing for doing your job. It's quite annoying."

"Sor-" Sherlock gave her a look "Yes I do…I'm going to check to see if you have any broken ribs on your right side. It's going to hurt." Sherlock nodded and she began gently prodding him. She tried to ignore the sounds of pain he was making and bite her tongue to stop from apologizing.

"I can't tell anything. We'll have to wait for the swelling to go down. For now, I can clean you up and wrap the cut." She was just beginning to bandage his chest when Dr. Erikson came in with another man. Sherlock sat up straighter and blurted out "Mycroft?!"

"Hello dear brother." Mycroft said, swinging an umbrella. "Now, Ms. Hooper, I'd like to make a proposition."

"Um…anything sir" Molly said as she continued to wrap Sherlock.

"I'd like to take my brother home…now."

"Right now?" Molly tied the bandage off and turned to Mycroft, her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Yes, Ms. Hooper" Mycroft sighed "right now."

"But your brother is hurt. He is in no condition to travel, let alone leave his bed for a long period of time. He has gashes all over the left side of his body, bruising and possible a broken rib or two-"

"A broken rib?" Mycroft turned to Dr. Erikson "You didn't say anything about a broken rib." Dr. Erikson shrugged "I told you she's smart."

Mycroft turned and scrutinized Molly. When he was satisfied, he turned back to Dr. Erikson "Does our decision from before stand?"

"That's not mine to make. It's hers." He nodded towards Molly. "Ms. Hooper, seeing as my brother is in a battered condition" Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes "I suggested to Dr. Erikson that you accompany us home and take care of my dear little brother until he is completely healed. Do you agree?"

"I can't just…I can't just leave the hospital."

"We will pay you, Ms. Hooper."

"This is a very good opportunity Molly" Dr. Erikson interrupted.

"The hospital cannot spare doctors and almost all of the nurses are incompetent for the condition of my brother. You obviously have the qualifications to be a doctor and Dr. Erikson recommended you, so the question is, are you coming or not?" Mycroft said, tapping his umbrella on the ground.

"But I won't be there for a long time."

"Mycroft can't take care of me" Sherlock explained to Molly "he'll leave as soon as we get back home; 'Government business' apparently. My mother is incapable of taking care of me so someone else will have to take care of me"

"…okay, I'll come."

"Good. We're leaving now." Mycroft turned and began to walk away.


	3. Chapter 3

"Get your possessions together and we will leave on the next train. There is a car waiting for us outside." Mycroft waved his hands at Molly as he left. "I'll take care of him." Dr. Erikson motioned to the sullen Sherlock "You go get your things."

"Mycroft this is ridiculous. I don't need some nurse to take care of me." Sherlock yelled as he staggered towards the car, leaning on Molly. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Need I remind you of the summer when you were twelve? You got sick and refuses to get out of bed." Mycroft yelled back, getting into the car

"I had pneumonia." Sherlock snapped, as Molly slowly helped him into the car.

"You wouldn't stop complaining"

"I was dying."

Molly gave a small smile and turned back to the hospital. She was going to miss it there. Sure, working with dying soldiers had some down sides, but she really liked some of the people there. Dr. Erikson had become almost like a father to her and he always made sure she was ok.

"Are you done reminiscing or shall we make camp?" Sherlock asked, his tone condescending.

"I'm done" Molly replied, getting into the car. As they drove off, she watched as the home she had known for almost three years disappeared into the distance.

After they had safely gotten on the train and settled Sherlock into a position that was as comfortable as possible, he had quickly fallen asleep. This left Molly and Mycroft to discuss the particulars of her duties. Mycroft promised to open a bank account for her in town and just deposit her money straight into it. When he told her the amount that he was planning on paying her each month she thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head. "That…that will do just fine Mr. Holmes" she replied feeling flustered.

Mycroft gave her a sincere smile "I thought as much." He turned to look at the window and Molly took this as a sign that most of their journey was going to be spent in silence. She settled into her and was soon drifting off to sleep.

"We will be there shortly." Mycroft said, as he climbed into a nice looking car. They had gotten off of the train and were met at the station by a driver. Apparently, Mrs. Holmes had gotten wind of her son's condition and insisted that their private driver get the boys from the station. Molly had tried not to look so shocked when she realized that she was not going to some little cottage or small house as she had previously expected. 'What have I gotten myself into to?' she thought as she got into the car.

'I should like to warn you, Ms. Hooper, that my mother can be something…of a handful" Mycroft said, trying to put it delicately. "I'm sure she will take to you instantly, but don't not be offended when she is blunt."

"She'll insist on buying you new clothes, of course. She can't you running around in the rags you have now" Sherlock told her.

"Rags?" Molly turned to him, trying not to feel too offended.

"Of course rags" Sherlock scoffed "You're an orphan. There is no way that you actually own a decent piece of clothing. Everything you have is old and used; probably doesn't fit you correctly either. We can't have a heathen running around our house. We have a reputation to uphold."

"Sherlock" Mycroft warned when he saw the hurt look on Molly's face "It's not like they will be many of Mummy's friends around for miles."

"What do you mean?" Molly turned to Mycroft.

"We can't go to London; too many bombs being dropped there. We have a summer home in Norwich-"

"Yes I understand that" Molly replied simply "I know we are in Norwich…I just didn't realize that you all live far away from each other."

"We own five hundred acres. Most of the wealthy own at least that. Our manor is smaller than some but we have the most land. It's quite well known between the richer of the country" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I suppose a person of…more common birth wouldn't know that."

"No I wouldn't." Molly replied. There was a moment where Sherlock and Molly just looked at each other, in some kind of battle of wits. The moment passed, however, and everyone went back to staring out the window.

"Sherlock, my darling!" Molly watched as an elegant, white-haired woman came running out of the door to grab Sherlock in a bear hug. "Hello Mummy" he mumbled into the woman shoulder. Molly tried to keep her mouth from opening in shock at the sight of the house. The front yard was larger than the orphanage she had spent most of her childhood at. There were stone steps leading to the large front doors. There was three stories of tan bricks with many windows spotting the house. Molly could hear the sound of water trickling somewhere behind the house, presumably a fountain. Flower boxes dotted the lower windows with every assortment of flower Molly had ever seen.

"And this must be Ms. Hooper" Mrs. Holmes said as she let go of Sherlock and caught sight of Molly. She faltered slightly and soon composed herself. No one else took notice of it. "It's so wonderful for you to be here. We will have to go to town tomorrow, of course, to get you some new dresses and skirts."

"Oh no ma'am, I can't let you do that for me."

"Think nothing of it." Mrs. Holmes waved her hand. "Now, Sherlock, I'd like to discuss some things with Mycroft, privately. I'll have Ms. Hopper take you up to your room to rest. Should I have one of the servants draw a bath?"

"No mother, I shall be perfectly fine." Sherlock said as he stumbled his way through the front door. Mrs. Holmes ignored him and called for one of the servant girls to make sure a bath was ready for him. Sherlock gritted his teeth and began to make his way towards the stairs. Molly set her bag down with an apologetic look to Mycroft and Mrs. Holmes before jogging to Sherlock.

"Here let me help" Molly said bringing his arms around her shoulder.

"I don't need your help." Sherlock snapped, trying not to lean on Molly.

"Ok" Molly said, not changing her position at all. When they came to the stairs, Sherlock tried to wrench himself free from Molly's grasp with little success.

"We're going to take it one step at a time" Molly said quietly, feeling as Sherlock leaned heavily upon her as they went up the step.

"I know how to climb the stairs!" Sherlock snapped. This cycle went on until they were about halfway up the stairs.

"I don't know why you insist on helping me. It's idiotic. I don't need any help."

"Of course you don't" Molly replied calmly, refusing to let go of him. Sherlock huffed in annoyance. Slowly they made their way to the top of the stairs. When they got to the top Sherlock inclined his head to the right. "Room's down that way". Molly nodded and slowly made their way to the door. A girl servant appeared from behind the door and gave a squeak when she found herself face to face with Molly.

"The bath is ready Master Sherlock" she curtsied and scampered away.

"I don't know why you insist on helping me." Sherlock grunted as they made their way into his room. "Because I'm an idiot" Molly replied, setting him on the four poster bed. "Now, do you not need my help with the bath too?" Sherlock look up at her slight smile and gave her a glare.

Unknown to both of them, Mycroft and Mrs. Holmes had watched the whole affair.

"She may just be to handle him" Mrs. Holmes smiled. "She is going to surprise us, I can guarantee it."


	4. Chapter 4

"You'd think, being a nurse, you would have more experience with the male anatomy" Sherlock smirked.

"Just take the towel" Molly said as she handed a large, fluffy towel through the partly closed door to the bathroom. She made sure to stare out the bedroom window so there was no way of seeing anything, even though the door was barely open.

"I still don't understand why you insisted on staying outside the door." Sherlock replied, his hand brushing hers as he took the towel. Molly retracted her hand faster than she thought possible, bringing it to her chest. She could feel her cheeks getting warmer and busied herself with finding Sherlock some clothes. "I could have fallen and hurt myself. Bathtubs are very dangerous" Sherlock tried to sound like he was teasing her, but it really just came out flat. He stared at the white bathroom door, trying to figure out why she would flinch away from him.

"Just get my pajamas and my dressing gown" Sherlock said as he dried himself off.

"Your brother said that you would be expected downstairs for dinner. He said that you had to look presentable." Molly replied, confused.

"Just do as I say."

Molly gave a sigh and pulled out a pair of pajamas; white with blue stripes.

"Leave your shirt off. I have to bandage your chest again." Molly said to the white bathroom door as she picked up a blue dressing gown from the floor. Sherlock rolled his eyes and snorted. "I don't see why you have this ridiculous notion that I am some damaged puppy in need of help."

Molly didn't respond and just handed the clothes through the door. Sherlock soon appeared, stepping through the door and sitting down on his bed. Molly got the medicine and applied it to the cut on his chest. She gently poked his side trying to check for broken ribs again. Sherlock stiffened and grunted when she began to poke harder.

"Sorry" she whispered backing away slightly. She slowly finished wrapping his chest and when she was done, she took care of his leg. Sherlock watched as she fretted over him, enjoying the way her eyebrows creased as she assessed the damage to his body. Her lips would move slightly as she mouthed what she was finding. He could see as she assessed how long it would take it to heal, the exact way the debris must have hit him to give him the injury. He was shocked when he found that he was smiling. He hadn't genuinely smiled in years, and this girl whom he had known not even known for a day had brought a smile to his face.

"Do you need something for your head?" Sherlock heard Molly asked quietly. He shook himself out of his own thoughts and looked down to see Molly staring at him.

"No. The pain has ebbed enough." Sherlock replied, not taking his eyes off of Molly. Molly tried to tell herself to stop staring at Sherlock, but to no avail. She wasn't sure how long both of them stayed where they were when she heard a knock on the door. Molly jumped up and walked over to the window. Sherlock cleared his throat. "Come in"

The same servant from before entered and curtsied. "Master Holmes is expected in the dining room." The girl began to walk out the door when Molly called after her.

"Um…Master Holmes is not in the condition to be going up and down the stairs. Tell Mrs. Holmes that I will be down to collect some food for him." The girl nodded and gave one last curtsy before leaving the room.

"Why did you do that?" Sherlock asked.

"You really are in no condition to be moving too much" Molly replied "…besides, you were trying to make your brother angry by showing up in pajamas." Molly said the last partly quietly, worried about the way Sherlock was going to take it.

"Am I really that obvious?" Sherlock smiled leaning back onto his bed.

Molly just gave a small smile. "I'll go get your food."

Molly walked into the kitchen to see an old woman running around grabbing the food for diner.

"Here, let me help you" Molly said grabbing a large, silver tray with potatoes.

"I'm here to bring some food up to-"

"To Sherlock, of course. I already sent someone up with some food. I expected it wouldn't be good for him to come downstairs"

"Oh…well I'm Molly"

"I know who you are sweetie" the woman smiled. Molly retracted slightly, giving a confused look.

"Word travels fast in this house" the woman explained. "I'm Mrs. Hudson, the cook. And you are Molly Hooper, the nurse that's been hired to take care of Sherlock."

"Lovely to meet you." Molly smiled.

"You've got your work cut out for you. Once his wounds start healing, the whining will begin. He hates being uncomfortable." Mrs. Hudson gave a small smile as she reminisced. "I remember once, when he was about five-years-old, he fell down and skinned his knee pretty well. Not a tear came out of his eyes, but dear God did the boy complain. 'I can't think like this, Mrs. Hudson' he would yell. 'Make it better this instant!'" Mrs. Hudson let out a laugh. "I swear that boy will be the death of us all."

Molly gave a small laugh. "I consider myself warned."

"Ah, there you are Ms. Hooper. I wondered where you were." Mrs. Holmes smiled as Molly entered the dining room behind Mrs. Hudson "And I see you've meet our dear cook" Molly nodded and set down the food on the table that was already laden with food. There was more food than Molly had ever seen and she had to try hard not to let herself droll.

"You are dismissed, Mrs. Hudson." Mrs. Holmes interrupted Molly's thoughts, and she watched as Mrs. Hudson walked back to the kitchen. "Molly dear, I thought you would eat with us."

Molly nodded slowly and took a seat by Mrs. Holmes, noticing that Mycroft was at the head of the table.

"Now tomorrow we'll take the car and get you fitted for some clothes. I can't have you running around in a dirty nurse's uniform, dear." Mrs. Holmes said as Molly filled her mouth with some turkey. She swallowed and slowly responded "Really, I can't let you do that. There's no way I can repay you."

"My dear" Mrs. Holmes took her hand "You are here taking care of my youngest son, who I was afraid was never going to come back to me alive. You have already repaid me in every respect. Besides, I always thought it would be fun to have a daughter."

"Thank you ma'am…thank you very much."

Hours later Molly was laying in her large, four poster bed. After a quite dinner, Mrs. Holmes had led her to her own room. Molly had felt her jaw drop at the beauty of the room. She had seen Sherlock's room, but she never expect hers to be of the same quality. Her room was had dark hardwood and a large area rug covering the ground. Her bed had a baby blue duvet and crisp white sheets. Her minimum amount of clothes was set in a beautiful wardrobe and she soon found that she had her own bathroom.

'This must be a dream.' Molly thought to herself as she felt herself falling asleep 'This is too good to be true."

Soon, however, she was awoken by muffled screams. She slowly got out of her bed, making sure she got to the door without falling over anything. When she opened her door and rub the sleep out of her eyes, she realized that she had no way of lighting her path. She gave a sigh and slowly made her way down the hallway. Thankfully, the servants had left some of the window blinds open, so she navigated most of her way by moonlight. She was down the hallway when she realized that she was walking to Sherlock's room. She began to run, realizing exactly what was going on. When she came to his door she swung it open and ran over to the bed. She could see, by the light of the moon, Sherlock writhing in his sheets and clutching his pillow.

"Sherlock!" she began shaking him "Sherlock wake up! It's just a nightmare!"

Sherlock groaned and shot up, grabbing Molly's hand in a death grip. He was breathing hard and he could feel his heart beating out of his chest. He looked up to find Molly staring down at him, her eyes large in concern. He noted that her hair was in a braid, parted to the side. 'It looks good like that' he found himself thinking. Her nightgown was obviously passed down to her, seen in the yellowing color and the random stains.

"It's okay. It was just a nightmare." Molly said softly, running her thumb over Sherlock's clamped hand, trying to soothe him.

Sherlock gulped and turned his head away from her.

"Was it about the war? Something like what happened when you were injured?"

Sherlock's head shot back to look at her, shocked that she could guess something like that.

"So it was. Anything else?" Molly asked, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. Sherlock just stared at her. "You aren't going to talk about it are you?"

Sherlock gave her a small smile that soon disappeared as he began thinking about the nightmare again. It had all been so real.

"Okay…" Molly let go of his hand and thought for a moment "Would you like some tea?"

"What?" Sherlock said, breathless.

"Well, whenever I had a bad dream, I would sneak downstairs at the orphanage and make myself a little cup of tea. It always made me feel better."

"So you're trying to help me avoid my problems by making me drink tea."

"It's either that, or I can keep asking about your nightmare. Your choice."

"I'll be right there."


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock got out of bed and was leaning to get his dressing gown, but Molly beat him to it. "Let me" she said quietly as slowly helped him get his arms into it and came to stand in front of him, unsure what she should do with the strings.

"Do you want it to be untied or should I-"

"No…no it's fine that way it is" Sherlock replied clearing his throat. Molly could feel her cheeks getting red again and gave him a nod. 'Why does that always happen with him?' she thought as she went to retrieve a blanket.

"What is that for?"

"It's in case I get cold" Molly smiled sweetly, before putting Sherlock's arm over her shoulder and beginning to help him out of the room. As soon as they made their way to the stairs Sherlock began to complain.

"How on earth are we going to get down the stairs in the dark?"

"I think I can get down a couple of stairs without my slight, thank you very much."

"And what if I decided I don't want to go downstairs?"

"You don't have much of a choice now do you?" Molly gave him a cheeky smile before hauling him down the stairs as safely as possible.

"I think I've figured _this _out" Sherlock said as he took a sip of his tea. They had both snuck down to the kitchen where Molly made tea as quietly as she possible could. She had been talking in whispers but when Sherlock had told her that everyone was probably already sound asleep, she visibly relaxed. "You're trying to bribe me so that I will talk about my nightmare. I'm not so ignorant to fall for a plot such as that."

"No, actually I just thought it would calm you down…However if you wanted to talk-"

"I don't" Sherlock snapped and took a drink of his tea.

"That's fine." Molly replied quickly. "If you don't want to talk about it you don't have to. But holding your feelings in will do you no good."

"Ms. Hooper, you will soon find that I am quite adapt at 'keeping my feelings in' and dispelling them rather quickly. I am quite heartless."

"No you aren't" Molly replied, confused as to why he would think that.

"What?" Sherlock was about to take another drink of tea, but his head shot up to stare at Molly.

"You aren't heartless. I've meet people who would be considered heartless and you don't even begin to match up to them."

"How would you know?"

"While you were sleeping, Mycroft mentioned you friend, John Watson. See, even when I say his name, your face softens. You are in no way heartless."

"Well, thank you…I suppose."

"You're welcome I suppose…now if you could just tell me where a sitting room is-"

"Are you trying to make me go to sleep again?"

"Where is a sitting room?"

"Are you?!"

Molly rolled her eyes and went out the kitchen door and glanced down the hall using the light from the kitchen to see. When she was satisfied that she had found what she was looking for she went back. She silently made Sherlock get up and began to walk him down the hall.

"I can't believe you!"

"People are trying to sleep" Molly whispered back, feeling like she was chastising a child.  
"I am about to be forced to sleep against my will" Sherlock said as they entered the sitting room; thankfully there was a couch. Molly was soon attempting to push Sherlock onto.

"I don't need to sleep."

"Yes you do."

"No, I don't"

"Look, I've been hired to take care of you. You have been hurt quite seriously and need to rest." Molly grabbed a pillow off of the chairs nearby and put it under Sherlock's head. He began to interrupt, but Molly just shook her head. "Not to mention that you never usually got enough sleep anyways. You were just awoken by a nightmare and you are afraid that you are going to have it again when you go to sleep. That's right, I can deduce things too." Her expression softened and she reached to take Sherlock's hand "Your stomach is full of something warm and the scenery has changed; the nightmare won't happen again. And if it does, I'll be right here to help you, I promise." She was about to put the blanket on his when he asked "What are you doing?"

"Trying to keep you warm."

"I have a dressing gown. You use the blanket" Molly raised her eyebrows "Oh, don't give me that look. Just do as I ask. "

Molly slowly nodded and settled herself on the floor.

"So…do I just wait for sleep to take me or something?" Sherlock asked, staring up at the ceiling.

"That is usually what happens, yes."

There was a moment of silence before Sherlock interrupted it. "This is boring."

"You could talk about your childhood to relieve the boredom." Molly leaned on her elbow, not wanting to get up from the floor.

"God no. I'll never be _that _bored." Sherlock scoffed turning his head in her direction.

"I could talk about my childhood." Molly laid back down.

"I doubt there's anything I don't already know."

"What did you do when you got bored in the army?"

"Deduced."

"What about when you were in the trenches and you already deduced everything?"

"Not sure. Tried to stay alive, counted the stars, that sort of thing."

"You counted the stars?"

"Once." Sherlock snapped "I counted the stars once."

"How many were there?"

"Stars?"

"Mhmm"

"I don't remember. I just started to count them."

"Do you have a mental picture of it?"

Sherlock closed his eyes and thought for a moment. "Yes I do."

"Then keep your eyes closed and count the stars."

"This is ridiculous"

"Just count the stars."

"Okay…one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine…Are you still awake?"

"Yes" Molly yawned, turning onto her left side so that she was facing the couch "Keep going."

"Fine. Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…" As Sherlock kept counting, his body began to relax. He felt tension he didn't even know he had, leave his body. By the time he made it to twenty, he was whispering the numbers. By thirty, he was no longer saying the words aloud. And by forty, he was fast asleep.

"Mrs. Hudson have you seen Sherlock? Or even Ms. Hooper?" Mrs. Holmes said as she entered the kitchen the next morning.

"No. I haven't seen them since yesterday."

"Well, John Watson is coming to visit. He heard that Sherlock had been let out and thought it would be good to pop in for a visit."

"Shall I prepare the sitting room miss?"

"Yes please."

Mrs. Hudson nodded and made her way down the hall. She opened the door and was about to start cleaning when she noticed a figure laying on the couch.

"Mrs. Holmes" she whispered down the hallway "You might want to come see this."

Mrs. Holmes gave her a confused look, but made her way down the hall. When she saw Sherlock lying on the couch and Molly wrapped up in the blanket, she couldn't help but smile.

"I haven't seen him sleep that soundly in years" Mrs. Hudson whispered. "He must have been the one making all that noise last night. I was going to get up, but just when I was about to, the noise stopped."

"You did the right thing Mrs. Hudson. Molly knew just how to take care of him. Here" Mrs. Holmes began backing out of the door "we should let them get a little more sleep."

Mrs. Hudson nodded and followed, closing the door behind her as she had one last glance of the dreaming Sherlock and Molly.


	6. Chapter 6

"Will that be all ma'am?"

"Yes, thank you" Mrs. Holmes said as she paid the shop owner and quietly walked Molly outside.

"You didn't have to buy me all this."

"My dear, I've only bought you twelve dresses." Mrs. Holmes smiled with mock innocence.

"Twelve everyday dress, six pairs of skirts and shirts, five party dress, seven pairs of shoes, and a large amount of jewelry only in the last week. I really can't take this all from you. This is too much."

"You aren't used to people pampering you."

"As an orphan, I could hardly expect much from anyone."

"I think it's high time you had a little pampering." Mrs. Holmes smiled. Molly slowly followed her down the street. "My boys aren't exactly the most romantic of men and as you can tell, and I never had a daughter. I have to pamper someone, so I hope you will get used to it."

"Thank you ma'am."

"Please call me Violet."

"Yes ma-I mean Violet." Molly smiled. She liked Mrs. Holmes and her odd ways. She was a lot blunter than any woman Molly had ever met, but she was also the cheeriest. She didn't fake emotions and Molly knew she was a very honest woman.

Molly had barely seen the inside of the house for the last five days. Mrs. Holmes insisted that they go out every day right after breakfast to get started on the shopping. Each day, they searched for something in particular. Of course, everything they bought had to be fitted to Molly perfectly. Mrs. Holmes hadn't told Molly; she had simply said that was how it worked when asked by Molly why they couldn't just take the clothes with them.

After Mrs. Hudson had awoken her and while she was dressing, Mrs. Hudson had caught her up on the Holmes's family tree. Both Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were from large money, but Mrs. Holmes had refused to let her children be raised by another woman. Sure, Mycroft and Sherlock had had nannies when they were little, but Mrs. Holmes always made sure to take the time for her children. Mr. Holmes was "a bit of an alcoholic" as Mrs. Hudson had put it. "He reformed though. Sherlock went off to war and he made sure that he cleaned up in his absence. I think that's one of the reasons he hasn't visited yet. He's afraid of what Sherlock thinks of him."

That was all Mrs. Hudson had been able to tell her before Molly left for town, running after a very excited and determined Mrs. Holmes. Molly followed behind Mrs. Holmes taking in the familiar sights of the many shops and people. She hadn't had much opportunity to get out of the orphanage when she was there.

"Come along Molly." Violet yelled back. Molly realized that she had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and quickly ran to catch up with Mrs. Holmes.

"The car should be just around this corner. Unless of course, you want to keep shopping, of course."

"No-no that's fine. We'll just head back."

Mrs. Holmes rounded the corner and waved to the driver. She handed him the few boxes she had in her hand and explained that someone would be up to the house to deliver the rest of the clothing in the evening.

"Can you tell me about the orphanage?" Mrs. Holmes asked as the car began to move. When Molly gave her an unsure look she quickly added "Don't say anything if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Honestly, there isn't much to tell." Molly shrugged.

"Were you close with many people at the orphanage?"

"Not really…I helped teach the younger children from time to time, so I was closer to them. However, I was close to Miss Mattie, the founder of the orphanage. "

"You didn't get along with children your age?"

"Not really, but there weren't many children mat age there."

"You were older when you were orphanage." It was statement, and Molly felt the blood drain from her face.

"How did you know that?" she asked in hushed voice.

"The way you talk about it made it seem that way. Also, Sherlock told me that this morning."

Molly's eyes grew larger. "He knows?"

"Yes. He was trying to show off by telling me what he deduced about you. But if it makes you feel better, it wasn't as much as he usually knows. You have him puzzled."

Molly nodded absentmindedly and the car went into a silence.

"I was nine."

"What dear?"

"I was nine when I first arrived at the orphanage."

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" Molly asked, genially confused.

"Because you still remember them; your parents."

"Yes" she whispered. "Yes I do."

"What on earth took you so long?!" Sherlock asked, laying on the couch in the sitting room, his hands steepled under his chin.

"I had to get adequate clothes for Molly." Mrs. Holmes said as she walked over the Sherlock "No shoes on the couch young man, what have I told you about that?!" She swatted Sherlock's feet off of the couch. Sherlock huffed in annoyance, but listened to his mother.

"Why do you have this need to put your feet on the couches?"

"I suppose it's my inner rebel trying to create anarchy." Sherlock replied, sarcastically.

"Mycroft never put his feet on the couch" Violet mumbled.

"Mycroft listen to your every beck and call so that he would appear to be the angel of the family! It was ghastly to behold."

Molly tried to cover her laugh into a cough. When Sherlock gave her an odd look she apologized. "Sorry…must be getting down with something" she averted her eyes to ground.

"I want you to be on your best behavior. John Watson is coming to visit you today."

"I know."

Mrs. Holmes huffed "You ruined the surprised."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Sherlock replied sarcastically "_How wonderful! I never would have guessed it!_"

"Be nice you your mother." Molly replied rolling her eyes "And admit you're glad to see John Watson." Both Mrs. Holmes and Sherlock turned to stare at her. She started to get a little uncomfortable, and began to play with her fingers. She looked down at the floor and waited for someone to say something. Nothing happened. She began to notice patterns in the hard wood floor. 'Long, long, short, medium…longish short-'

"How did you know I'd be glad to see him?" Sherlock questioned, trying to keep his voice nonchalant.

"I was just guessing" Molly sputtered, giving a quick glace to Sherlock "You didn't make a face when your mother said his name so I thought-"

"Make a face?"

"Yes. I've noticed that whenever you talk about something that you don't like, you make a…frown."

"And when have I made a frown?"

"Usually talking about Mycroft… or when you get annoyed with something." Molly gave Sherlock a small smile and he couldn't help but smile back. "I accept your deduction as correct." Sherlock said.

"So what is this John Watson like?"

"Now you're trying to get me to talk about my past? Tut tut Ms. Hooper, I'd thought you'd deduce it with your new skills."

Molly's face fell a little until she realized that Sherlock was teasing her. "I was just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"Then it's lucky that I'm not a cat" Molly grinned and waited for Sherlock to reply.

While this was happening, Mrs. Holmes stood to the side and watch the two. She was slightly shocked to see Sherlock respond to Molly. He seemed…comfortable talking to Molly. He wasn't comfortable talking like this with anyone but John.

Sherlock was about to respond when Mrs. Homes interrupted.

"How about you show Ms. Hooper around the house. She hasn't had the chance to see the whole house."

Sherlock grumbled but made his way to the door. "Are you coming on not?" He turned to Molly. She gave 'sorry' and followed him swiftly out of the room. When they got to the stairs Sherlock stopped and turned to Molly, waiting. She gave him a confused look as he rolled his eyes and grudgingly put his arm over her shoulder.

"It seems I may be in need of some assistance and seeing as you are my nurse, you have to help me" he said, trying to sound annoyed. Molly rolled her eyes, but wrapped her arm around his waist and helped him up the stairs.

"How are you feeling?" She asked him quietly. "I'm sorry I haven't been around to help you. Your mother is rather insistent."

"I'm doing fine." Sherlock replied. Molly nodded her head and they feel into silence until they got to the top of the stairs. "It's to the right" Sherlock motioned with his head and they slowly began to make their way down the hallway.

"Have you had anymore nightmares? I haven't been awoken by them, but I've been sleeping heavily."

"It should be right down this way" Sherlock said, ignoring her question.

"If you have one, you can come to me. I'm here to help you. All you have to do is tell me what you need." Molly said. Sherlock was surprised at the sincerity of her words and had to stop himself from turning to look at her. He was afraid if he saw her, he would start to spill the truth.

He hadn't slept ever since the night they had fallen asleep together. He couldn't take the risk of having nightmares; she might hear him. So he just stayed up the whole night, occasionally reading, doing experiments, anything he could find to keep his mind occupied. He had been eating poorly too. He never ate well in the first place; slowed down his mind. But he found that he didn't really have any apatite. He just felt so…bored. Practically everything was boring now; just plain old civilian life.

"Sherlock, if you need anything, you need to let me know." Molly lightly touched his shoulder, hoping that he would turn around. He just flinched away.

"Here we are." He said, facing two wooden doors. He opened them both out and stepped in. "Welcome to our library."


End file.
